Late Night Musings
by MimixIshidax
Summary: Updated with the prompt "Future" from tumblr for Mimato Week 2016.
1. Chapter 1

_Late Night Musings  
_ By MimixIshidax

-x-

There was something about the way she looked in the firelight, _magical_ ; as the flames wisped about her illuminating parts and pieces of her silhouette. And here, where she believed no one could see her, she let the smile she had pasted on...fall. Worry etched across her delicate features, melancholy dripping from her eyes, uncertainty written all over her face.

They had been here, for what felt like years, grasping at shadows…chasing ghosts. Following leads that inevitably became dead ends and deciphering cryptic clues that brought them no closer to the end than the beginning.

And yet, in the time they had spent he had always felt detached from her. Not in a bad way, necessarily, just in a distant way. He hadn't seen her in seven years and it seemed as though she was an entirely different person. No longer whining about trivial things like not having a _real bed_ to sleep in or the bug digimon roaming around.

No, instead, she was eternally optimistic, trying to infect everyone around her with her cheer. Assuring everyone they would survive, fix everything and save the world and it would be over sooner than they thought. And he had found it so odd, so incredibly strange that the one person he had always considered to be something akin to an obligation was the one trying to gather hope and support in them.

The way a leader would…

Of course, she wasn't that and nor would she ever claim to be. But there was a strength in her that he had never seen before, a courage he would have never guessed was possible. And while this new facet of her personality had intrigued him at first, mostly it just left him confused.

And confusion, for Yamato Ishida, was a particularly irritating emotion—so instead of letting it furl and unfurl in his mind over and over again, he cast it away.

He did, however, grudgingly allow a good deal of newfound respect for her to blossom. He trusted her, not to say he mistrusted her before. But now, it was different, he could actually _trust_ her to accomplish things, be useful to the task at hand. She was no longer what he would've considered a liability of any sort.

The respect morphed into something more, as time went on. He wasn't sure when it happened or how it happened, but he found himself thinking about her even when she wasn't distinctly in his sight. A lot of times, when he was alone, keeping watch or keeping to himself, he allowed his mind to wander in the recesses of his subconscious and out she would emerge.

And he would work up conversations in his head, about how he would tell her he had misjudged her. How she hadn't deserved that from him. And she would tell him that she didn't begrudge him for it, because she was nothing if not gracious.

But seeing her this way, dissolved of any remnants of happiness, stripped of her spirit… he thought it would make the cynic in him think less of her. As if everything she had portrayed the past few months had just been an act, she wasn't actually that strong or brave or…hopeful. That under it all was the same ten year old girl, lost and scared.

Except he didn't, he didn't think any of those things, not even a little, not at all. Instead, he found a greater appreciation for her and how difficult it all must be for her as well. Because she tried, for the sake of everyone else, to be optimistic and encouraging, she knew if she wasn't they would all be much worse for the wear.

Perhaps even have given up by now.

And there was something so sincerely selfless about that, he could barely grasp it.

He wordlessly walked over to her, cursing the twig that snapped under his shoe that caused her to meet his eyes.

She wiped at her cheeks furiously, a pink blush rising from her neck as she averted her gaze.

He didn't say anything, he wasn't known for being particularly chatty anyway. So instead, he just sat beside her, back against a great brown log. He kept a few inches between them so he could be sure she wasn't uncomfortable by the sudden proximity.

"I can keep watch you know, you don't have to babysit me." She sounded a tiny bit…resentful.

Matt realized how it must look, she was not aware of his internal musings or his changing perspective. She had no idea at all what he really thought of her, only just what she perceived he thought of her.

And he didn't blame her for that.

"I know." He said simply. "It's not why I came out here."

She nodded, "I see." She untucked her hair from behind her ear, letting her loose waves cascade over her shoulder, shielding her face from his eyes.

He sighed, looking at his hands.

She rested her chin on her hand, "Why did you come out here, then?" She asked softly.

They had a very…barren friendship (if it could even be called that.) He didn't find her annoying the way he had before, but their interactions were limited entirely to plans and codes and figuring out how the hell they were going to get out of here.

But, boy, was she _stunning_.

Disarmingly so.

If there was something he had noticed from the second he had seen her, it was that. It was the first thing that had caught his attention. Everything else had, of course, come later. But there was no denying that she had grown into someone incredibly, unequivocally, aesthetically appealing.

And he was a musician, an _artist_ , it was in his nature to be inherently moved by beauty and grace. He could imagine many ballads being inspired by such a striking muse.

As if he were Homer and she were Calliope.

He would find himself humming wordless melodies as his eyes fell upon pink tinged cheeks. He could hear lyrics about flawless alabaster skin and strawberry champagne lips and honeydew eyes.

He snapped himself out of his reverie.

"I was actually just…um." He had to take a leak, but there probably wasn't a very eloquent way of putting that. "Just using the men's room." He cleared his throat.

That earned a small giggle out of her and for some reason the sound made him smile, "You mean that makeshift pile of leaves." She said in amusement.

"Not the best accommodations." He agreed.

She raised a shoulder, "Better than nothing, I suppose." She said, as her smile faded.

"Still, an adjustment for a princess."

He saw her shift, "I'm not…" She went a little rigid.

"Relax." He said lightly. "I was only kidding." He wanted her to know that.

"I'm not so high maintenance, you know." She defended anyway.

He fought off a grin, "Of course not." He said, in a silky drawl that sent a shiver down her spine.

She allowed herself to look at him, through the gaps in her hair, his profile slightly distorted and divided in her peripheral vision.

He had always been handsome.

Cool and aloof and distant but handsome nonetheless.

Hard to read and mysterious beyond measure, but handsome still.

Angst-ridden and broody and fatalistic but…handsome through it all.

"You could've gone back to the tents." She noticed.

Matt ran a hand through his wild blonde hair, "I know." He acknowledged. "But I didn't." He said as if it weren't entirely obvious he was still sitting there.

"Why?"

He shrugged, "You seemed lonely." He admitted. "And I couldn't really sleep anyway."

Mimi turned her face to look at him, "I—I wasn't lonely." She told him quickly. "I was fine, I am fine."

He dragged his eyes up from the crackling wood, "So maybe I was lonely." He told her, locking his turbulent blue gaze with hers.

Her eyes widened, as she ripped them away from his hold. "And you sought out _my_ company?" She asked, sarcasm and surprise equally evident in her voice.

"Is that just so hard to believe?"

She let out a hollow laugh. "I don't imagine to be your first choice." She said honestly, once again allowing her hair to separate the two of them.

"You presume to know how I feel towards you." He frowned.

Mimi shook her head, "No presumption, Yamato. I do know." She corrected. "But it's alright, I understand why we wouldn't necessarily spend too much time together." And the implication was clear, what she really meant was she understood why he wouldn't want to make an effort with her.

They were too different.

She had tried, at the beginning at least. Mostly because she really wanted to know him, there were parts of him that he kept so closed off from everyone else, haunted pieces of his past he wouldn't let anyone see. And it made her want to figure him out, get passed those walls and underneath his skin.

Find out how and where and when he got his scars—those invisible ones that kept him so incredibly scared of getting close to someone.

She had wanted to _help_ him.

No one should have to go through pain alone.

But she learned quickly her attempts were in vain, he didn't want her help and he certainly didn't care to get to know her.

And it stung, but after a while she had learned to be okay with it.

Not everyone was going to gravitate towards her.

But that was before, that had been the last time, she reminded herself.

This time around—he was different. Not detrimentally, just incrementally. The change so marginal, so subtle that she was sure only she would have noticed.

Perhaps the others had too once in a while, but she was sure they attributed it to maturity and time.

They were kids before, surely they had grown up in the time that had passed between then and now.

He was more patient, and there were times she found him sneaking looks at her—sometimes looking impressed, other times looking surprised. But there were other times, when she was sure she had been imagining things, where he would just be _looking_ at her. No rhyme or reason, just careful glances.

"Enlighten me, then. What do I think of you, Mimi?"

She wasn't going to fall for this one, "I'm not the type to be self-deprecating." She answered.

"I wouldn't expect you to be." Matt chuckled. "I find you…" He paused for a moment, rummaging around for the right word. "Interesting." He decided.

"Interesting?"

Cautiously, he reached out a hand towards her. "Yes." He brushed the soft tendrils of auburn silk behind her ear.

She almost flinched at the contact, not because it was unpleasant but because it had been so unexpected.

"I had always thought you were a bit…transparent. Shallow, even." He confessed openly. "And I want to attribute that to my own naiveté as an eleven year old boy with no real life experience and to the fact that I hadn't taken the chance to actually get to know you, then in a flash you were gone." He moved his hand from her hair.

She raised her eyebrows, but for once keeping her mouth shut.

"I know I wasn't very forthcoming last time, but I thought I had changed that now." He realized he hadn't done such a good job in hindsight.

She wasn't psychic, after all, how would she know how much his perspective had changed just by the sheer allowance of letting himself be wrong about her.

Instead of holding steadfast to the preconceived notion he had of her for all these years.

"You did." She said, feeling an overwhelming need to compensate him for his vulnerability. "I just thought it was because… never mind."

"What?"

"I just thought it was because you had just you know gotten more mature. Like any of the rest of us."

He shook his head, "No, it's because I see you differently." He hadn't come here to profess anything, but now that he had come this far, he knew the words were going to come out of their own accord. "Or rather, maybe I just finally see you for who you are." He amended.

Because he knew, somewhere deep down, that this was probably the person she had always been, he had just always been too pigheaded to realize it.

Her eyes snapped up, "You, you do?" She asked.

"You're selfless and kind." His eyes softened as he looked at her. "You're stubborn and emotional. A little dramatic." He added with a wink.

A small smile touched the corners of her lips.

"But it's only because you care so much about everything and everyone." He had glimpsed this, that day she had insisted they give their fallen comrades a proper burial. But that brief display had barely been the surface of her compassion. "And you're generous and forgiving almost to a fault, but I know it'll never change." He said resolutely.

Mimi dropped her eyes to the ground, feeling her heart stammering against her ribcage. "I… Matt. I didn't." She was at a loss for words, probably for the first time ever.

He put a hand under her chin, mesmerized once again by the way the firelight danced in her eyes, brightening shades of rust and fawn while simultaneously extracting hues of fern and pine. "And, you should know." He prompted her to look at him, trying to maintain the nerve to say what he had been thinking for the last however long months. "You're _beautiful_."

The word sent an assortment of what Mimi imagined to be brightly colored butterflies soaring through her internal organs, fluttering around her stomach, knocking the air out of her lungs.

"Matt…" His name came out breathy and soft.

Did he know how even the slightest compliment from him had such a profound effect on her?

Determination flowed through him like the very blood running in his veins, as he moved his hand behind her neck. Her eyes widened, mouth slightly parted at his swift motion.

And she didn't respond to him at first, her brain hadn't quite caught up to the sensation of his lips on hers. But it was only a few seconds before her eyes flickered shut and her mouth moved delicately against his.

There had been an explosion of colors behind her eyelids, as her skin hummed to life beneath his featherlike touch.

Matt gently pulled away, "Some prior warning would have been proper, I suppose." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I imagine you're a bit… puzzled." Emotions were certainly not his forte, talking about them was even more abstract.

But he knew that particular trait left the people around him rather unfulfilled, in a constant state of confusion about what he was _feeling_.

"A bit, sure." She said slowly coming out of her daze. "I honestly just didn't think there was ever a chance you would want to…well, do that." She blushed adorably.

"Was it… was it alright?" It struck him then, that perhaps she didn't have the same sentiments towards him.

Had he grossly overstepped his bounds?

A soft wind-chime chuckle left her, "It was." She promised.

If she was honest with herself, she had wanted to kiss him the moment they'd locked eyes.

"I was just taken aback, is all." She assured him.

Matt moved a little closer to her, "I meant it though, all of it." He inched his hand closer to hers, until he could brush his pinky against hers.

She didn't move her hand, "Really?" She murmured, prompting his hand closer still.

He allowed his fingers to overlap her tiny, slender ones. "Wasn't it sincere?" He asked, she was the expert after all.

She thought on it, in the meanwhile allowing herself to enjoy the warmth of his hand over her own, in all its simplistic innocence and intimacy.

"How do you feel about me, Yamato?" She asked him, fiery resolution burning behind her bright eyes.

Instinctually, he wanted to reclaim his hand back. But he fought the urge to run, "I'm not so sure." He said in an entirely non-committal fashion.

"But you said you felt differently now than you had before, you must have some sort of explanation for how or why." She wasn't letting him off that easy.

He didn't get to kiss her and then shut her out. If she was going to be left with intrusive thoughts about him and everything he had awoken in her, she would be damned if she let him walk away doubtless and content.

She wasn't anyone's experiment.

So if he truly did mean what he said as he claimed, he would prove that right now.

Otherwise, they were just words—heavy but meaningless, the kiss as well. And she would leave it all there, in the cold night air and in the burning fire and in the deafening darkness.

"I find myself watching you, without even meaning to do so." He started. "But, but not in a stalker way or anything." He added quickly.

She fought the smile that threatened to encompass her features.

"But just kind of looking at you, doing things. And interacting with people and digimon, alike. I was always pleasantly surprised time and time again by your empathy and your loyalty…" He took a deep breath in. "And just when I thought I had a handle on who you were, you would peel away another layer of yourself and reveal someone even more enigmatic and fascinating." He was uncomfortable, she could tell.

His hand twisting into a fist absently, curling and uncurling it with every syllable.

And she felt bad, but she needed him to push a little further—give her just a little more.

So she waited.

"But we had been estranged for so long—for forever, really. And I had never any idea how to approach you after cementing such a detached relationship, I was at a loss for how to reverse it."

She nodded, because it was all the things she had been feeling lately.

As if they were both so close to saying something _more_ but somehow _always_ falling short.

"Then tonight, I saw you here and you'd been crying." He made no effort to hide the fact that he'd seen her. "And I couldn't just leave you like that. When we started talking, it kind of just felt like everything had snapped into place. All of a sudden it didn't feel like there were oceans between us anymore, as if we were finally in the same place at the same time." He had no idea if he was making any sense at all anymore.

But when he looked at her, he could tell whatever he was saying must have been right because she was smiling.

The breath left his lungs quite quickly when he noticed that.

She was radiant.

"I know there's probably a lot more I should say." He shifted his weight in the dark. "But I don't know…" he went to withdraw his hand.

She caught it, "No, don't." She practically pleaded.

A soft smile touched his lips, as he threaded her fingers between his own.

She moved a little closer to him now, looking at him demurely through dark lashes. "Thank you." She said gratefully.

"For?"

"Just that, all of it." She tentatively laid her head on his shoulder.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, allowing her to bury her face into his chest, pulling her as close to him as he could.

And when Sora came to relieve Mimi an hour later, she was momentarily alarmed to find not one but two figures slumped against the great oak log.

But the panic was quickly replaced with elation, when she registered the familiar glint of Yamato's unruly blonde hair.

"Well, would you look at that." Tai came up beside her, arms crossed over his chest. "About time, too." He smirked, "I was beginning to wonder if Matt would ever find his ball—

"Taichi." Sora reprimanded quietly, elbowing him in the stomach. "Should we wake them up?" She whispered.

Tai stared at the pair thoughtfully, "Nah, let's give them a few more minutes." He said decidedly.

Sora looked at him. "My, my. How is it possible that our fearless leader, rule with an iron fist, take no prisoners—Taichi Yagami, is actually promoting sleeping on the job?" She kinked an eyebrow.

"Love, darling." He kissed the top of her head affectionately. "It does crazy things to a guy."

-x-

A/N: So this was supposed to be a holiday fluff piece…

Originally I had this idea of how Mimi would realize it was Christmas Eve back in the real world and that's why she was sad and the kiss was going to be a mistletoe-y one.

Yeah, don't ask me how I got here because I have no explanation for it.

Though if you really want, blame the song **Oceans** by _Seafret_. (Atlantis by them too, if we're being totally honest)

Also I never think ages are important enough to explicitly mention (especially in one shots) but I know some people just like knowing so:  
 **Yamato, Sora, Taichi—18; Mimi—17 (Koushiro—17, Jyou—21; Takeru, Hikari—14)**

Yes, I should definitely work on the next update for ASB and I am, I swear. It's coming along (as in to say, I have the end and the beginning—the middle is tricky though.)

Anyway, read, review, enjoy. You know the drill.

-Chris.

P.S—Thinking about expanding this concept into a full length story (not any time soon, but it's definitely an idea) anyone interested?

Oh and if anyone was wondering, in greek mythology Calliope was of one of the nine muses and she had been responsible for epic poetry. Homer attributed his inspiration for the Iliad and the Odyssey to Calliope.


	2. Future

" **Future** "  
 _A tribute to Mimato Week 2016_

-x-

It was over.

They had done it.

Again.

And now mankind was no longer in peril.

But being in another world had disconnected him so wholly from this one and he was at a loss as to how he was going to resume his old life. Was he supposed to go to school? What grade would he be taken into? Was he supposed to apply to colleges? Get recommendations?

Did he live with his Dad?

Go to his mom's?

How was he going to adjust to not being with his brother, day in and day out. Go back to seeing him once a week on weekends and during holidays?

And worst of all…

Was she going to be here?

Or…

"Are you going to leave again?" He asked her frankly and it wasn't with any malice or discontent.

It was through earnest blue eyes and a shaky voice and a heavy heart. Because he had become so accustomed to having her with him, he had literally forgot what his existence was like before her and now that everything had gone back to the way it was, he was coming to the realization that she might not be around anymore.

That was the way things had been before they left.

She stared at him, bottom lip caught between her teeth. "I…" She couldn't bring herself to say it, how could she tell him that she probably did have to go back?

He shook his head, "I can't let you." And it was the first time he was standing up for how he felt for her.

She knew, of course she knew, everyone knew. They had kissed and they had kissed some more and then they had done more and while they had never put any labels on anything (they were in the Digital World for god's sake) he thought of her as his girlfriend.

She _definitely_ wasn't anyone else's, that was for sure.

And he would be damned to hell if he let her go off to New York thinking they weren't going to give this thing a fighting chance.

They had come too far, been through too much, gotten too close, for it to just be over.

Hazel eyes moistened at his admission, he hadn't said much but she saw it all burning behind his cobalt irises.

He pulled her in from the door way, wrapping her up in his arms. "You're not leaving me." He said firmly in her ear, and she relaxed in to him at his words.

"Matt." She mumbled, with her face buried so deep in his chest that his entire presence overwhelmed all of her senses.

Almost as if he had bled himself into her veins and had become a part of her so completely she wasn't sure how to discern him from her very being.

"You can't, not after everything." He told her.

And she was scared, so scared to say the words that were on the tip of her tongue.

"What if I have to?" She whispered.

He let out a sigh, "No." He held her tighter.

"Matt…"

He was silent, and she didn't prompt him to say something. If he was going to make any compromises or commitments alike, she wanted it to be without coercion and entirely independent. He needed to decide for himself if this was something he wanted to work on or if the only way things could progress was if they were in the same place.

She loved him, God, she _loved_ him so much it was barely even believable.

And he terrified her, so beautifully, so completely, in an all consuming way that made her realize he was just so much more than a fleeting moment of happiness, or a desperate attempt to rectify her loneliness.

He was no ship in the night.

Finally, she heard him clear his throat. "If you have to leave, we'll make it work." And there was a determination behind his promise that quelled any doubt she'd had.

"Do you mean that?"

He nodded, "You don't get to go off and be with someone else while I sit in my room and write songs about how you were the one that got away." He said into her hair. "It's too cliché and too tortured and it _won't_ be how we end." They deserved more than that.

After all they had fought for, how far they had come, everything they had endured, this romance wasn't allowed to be just a footnote in the story.

They _were_ the story.

If this was going to end, someway—someday that wasn't today—then it would be in a blaze of passion and fireworks and an epic climax worthy of what they had gone through to get here.

They had fought a war, for _fuck's sake_ , in another _fucking_ dimension while the fate of their entire world hung in the balance. Was it impossible to have a happy ending, even now?

She let out a giggle at his words, overjoyed at the sentiment because Yamato was not one for platitudes, or feelings, or words in general for that matter. He was quiet, stoic and always controlled. Hearing him talk about her and describing how strongly he felt, it was dreamlike.

He was actually showing her that he was every bit as invested in _them_ as she was.

"Okay." She smiled, "Then we won't end that way." She pulled her face out of his chest to look up at him through sparkling amber eyes.

He gave her one of his rare but heartbreaking smiles; that caused a million cocoons to burst in her stomach, sending butterflies soaring everywhere inside.

"I don't know what the future holds," She admitted, "Everything feels like it's been turned around and left upside down and I have no idea where our lives might lead us now." She was unsure, of just about everything.

But there was something about his presence that calmed her, "I just think if we can get past these next few months—years—we'll be okay." She said honestly.

He bent his head to her capture her lips, wordlessly assuring her that no matter what happened he would _always love her._

-x-

Fifteen year old Reiko Jasmine Ishida sat on the floor of her parents' bedroom, fishing through an old cardboard box. It was full of useless crap like aged CD's (apparently it was how old people had listened to music _back in the day_ ) opened envelopes with smudged letters inside, abandoned song lyrics—and a whole bunch of other junk that she really wasn't interested in.

She needed a picture of her parents for an English project and while she had asked her mom for these w _eeks_ ago, of course she forgot to take them out. Now, the day before the damn project was due she was stuck sitting on the wooden floor with her butt going numb, searching through a box that probably weighed as much as she did, with content dating back to the late nineties.

What a fun way to spend her Sunday.

"Rei, what are you doing in mom and dad's room?" A tiny voice called to her from the doorway.

"Get outta here, pipsqueak. It's none of your business." The teenager said to the five year old who was peering at her through curious hazel eyes.

"You know mom hates it when you go through her things." He reminded her.

"Listen tattle tale, it's for a school project now scram." She stuck her tongue out at him for good measure.

"Yeah, sure. Mom's gonna be _sooo_ mad at you when she finds out." He taunted.

"I seriously doubt that."

"Remember the last time you took her dress without telling her and then you spilled soda all ov—

"Didn't I tell you to leave like five times already, why are you _still_ standing there?" She huffed, finally looking up at him with a withering stare.

He defiantly raised his chin, "You're not the boss of me." He said.

Rei narrowed her blue eyes, "I sure am when no one's home, kid." She said levelly.

"Too bad Junior's home." He argued. "He's the boss of both of us." He cross his arms over his chest.

Rei let out an aggravated growl, "Are you seriously just going to stand there and bother me?" She asked.

"Maybe." He shrugged.

"That's it." She muttered. "Junior!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, calling to her older brother in the same high pitched screech until she heard his hurried footsteps climbing up the stairs.

Yamato Taichi Ishida—more casually known as "Junior" came rushing into his parents' room where he had heard his sister's frantic screams coming from. At the sight of both his siblings, unharmed and in one piece, he let out a sigh. "What the hell are you hollering for?" He demanded.

"Can you get the twerp outta here, I'm trying to figure something out." She requested sweetly.

"God damn it, Rei. You can't just scare me like that." He reprimanded, glaring at her through crystal blue eyes.

"She's in mom's room, she's not supposed to be when they're not home."

Junior sighed, "It's okay, champ. How about we go work on your jump shot?" He suggested. "It's been looking kind of rusty as it is."

It was appealing to the five year old, "But she's probably not even really doing her homework." He protested ruefully. "I wanna see what's in the box too." He whined.

"Kaito…" Junior said sternly. "She needs to find a picture for her school assignment, does that sound like much fun to you?" He asked the little boy.

"No." He muttered.

"You are such a pest. You know that?" She raised an eyebrow at him menacingly.

"Rei, just shut up and get back to what you were doing." Junior, who had inherited his patience (and everything else as well) from his father, said in irritation. "C'mon, kid." He nudged the five year old along and Rei let out a sigh of relief.

About an hour later, she had about five or six pictures laid out in front of her as she struggled to choose between them.

The first one was a group picture of her parents and their friends with a bunch of weird looking animals that her mother had said she would explain but never got around to telling her about. Rei kind of figured that picture might raise some alarming questions and a project adding up to fifteen percent of her grade so wasn't worth all that hassle.

She easily cast it aside.

The next was a picture of her mom, the inscription on the back read: _Miss you, princess. Can't wait til May;_ in her father's familiar scrawl.

For some reason, that picture kind of made her heart hurt. She didn't like thinking of her parents apart from each other and her father being sad and lonely. Rei knew just by the way he looked at her that they had been in love for forever, there was something about the way his eyes lit up when she came in the room—like she was his sun and moon and stars.

And that had always given Rei a sense of security, that in a world that was quickly changing, where relationships were easily discarded and people seemed to come and go as they pleased, at least her parents would always be together all the same.

Her eyes fell on another picture, it was of her parents together and it looked like Christmas because they were both wearing really festive, really _ugly_ sweaters. She marveled at how much she resembled her mother—just her eyes were different—but everything else was practically identical. And in this picture, where she looked like she was barely twenty, it was uncanny.

Her father was holding her mother in a tight embrace, her mom had that smile she had always reserved only for him and they looked _so happy_.

She kept it, because even if she didn't use it, she wanted it.

Rei laughed out loud when she found a picture of her dad, clad in a leather vest with pants to match, singing into a microphone on a dimly lit stage.

 _Was he wearing mascara!_

And another of her mom, probably from the same embarrassing concert, caught mid gyration in the middle of a crowded venue—her mouth open as if she'd been singing along.

She looked at a few more pictures, there was one from when Junior was born—she knew because of the blue blanket and because her parents looked painfully young, so it couldn't have been of her or Kaito. There was another from when Rei was probably a year old, her mom beaming happily at the camera with Rei on her lap and Junior staring sullenly away from the lens. She guessed her dad was taking the picture and her brother had wanted to be doing anything but posing in a tuxedo. On the back her mother had written: _Davis & Kari's Wedding 06-08-01. _

"Everything alright in here, princess?" Her dad's deep baritone took her by surprise.

She stared up at him sheepishly, "I needed a picture for a project." She told him.

He nodded, "Right, the same one you asked your mother about weeks ago?" He raised his brows.

"Yep."

He chuckled, "Well how about some help from your old dad, are you looking for something specific?" He asked her. "Because you know, if there was ever an expert on the archives of our relationship, it would be me."

"I just need something with a story." She said. "The theme of this assignment is true love and what it means to us and _blahblahblah_." She stopped to roll her eyes. "We're supposed to use an image and describe how it's related."

He nodded, crossing his arms across his chest.

"I couldn't really think of an example of unconditional love more personal than you and mom." She looked away from him, feeling her cheeks heat up.

He smiled that patented dad smile, all reassuring and paternal. "I think I know just the one." He said after a minute.

He went his side of the room, and she waited as he shuffled around papers, and moved around objects. In the silence, she heard her mom's voice coming in faintly from downstairs, calling for Kaito and Junior to come inside and get ready for dinner.

"We brought home Thai." Her father said absent mindedly, still searching through his belongings.

"From Taisho Fusion?" She asked eagerly, not bothering to cover up her enthusiasm.

He grinned, "We would never be fickle enough to show up with anything else." He winked.

She really was the princess.

Finally, he goes over to her, photo in hand. "This is the one." He met her eyes with his twin blue ones.

She always knew she had gotten her father's eyes, "It's special?" She asked in a small voice.

He nodded, "Very." He sat down on the floor beside her.

Rei looked at the photograph, a little confused by what she saw. It was at an airport, during what looked like a really sad goodbye in which even her father looked like his eyes were glistening with tears.

She had never, ever seen that expression from her dad.

And her mother was mid sob, her arms clutching on to him for dear life, as if they were about to be ripped apart any minute.

"Dad, why did you—

"Reiko! Matt!" Her mother's voice floated into the room, a lot closer this time. "Dinner's ready!" She called, followed the by sound of her padded footsteps.

"Sweetheart, dinner's—" She stopped mid speech at the sight of both father and daughter sitting amidst a clutter of junk on the floor. "What's going on… in here?" She peered around.

"Did you forget about my project?" Rei scowled.

She laughed, "I guess, I did. Did you get the picture you wanted?" She asked.

Rei shifted uneasily, figuring out how to answer that question. This wasn't really what she had been expecting her father to come up with.

How was she to explain that this was what the embodiment of love looked like to her?

"Babe, you can go eat with the boys, I'll finish up here." She said to her husband, feeling badly for neglecting her daughter's school work.

Matt nodded, knowing his wife wanted to amend the situation.

"Why'd dad give me this?" She asked.

She looked at it, a knowing smile spreading over her delicate features. "Love, wasn't it?" She murmured.

Rei just looked at her expectantly.

"When Matt and I were just a little older than you, we realized we loved each other." She began. "But I was leaving Japan. And he wasn't. And we were only teenagers who didn't know the first thing about a functioning relationship let alone how to maintain a long distance one."

Rei chewed her lip, staring at her mother's familiar features with anticipation.

"We'd been through a lot together, in a really short amount of time. He had become everything to me so quickly, I didn't even have time to process all of it until it was too late." She continued. "I was leaving for New York on this day." She held out the picture, tapping it with her finger. "We were so scared and so unsure of what was going to happen, when the next time we would see each other would be, if we would even make it long enough for that to happen." The story, so far, was depressing, but her mom's hopeful tone betrayed that.

"Your father never gave up though, before I left he had made me a promise that he wouldn't allow me to leave him. That somehow, some way, we would make it work—and it took almost five years and a lot of flights back and forth, a lot of sleepless nights, a lot of fights and tears but we found our way back in the end." She grinned sweetly in nostalgia.

Rei stared at her parents' melancholy expressions, "Did you think you guys were going last?" How did people truly know the meaning of forever?

She touched the top of her daughter's head, "No." She said honestly. "And there were times where I was so close to calling it in, just walking away and starting over." She confessed.

"But you didn't…" Rei noted. "Why?"

"Because we couldn't just…end that way."

"What do you mean?"

"Your father had told me that our story wasn't allowed to end with me moving on with someone else while he wrote songs about how I was the one that got away." She remembered fondly.

Rei felt a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, "What happened after the five years?" She prodded.

"I finished college, came back to Japan, moved in with your father—

" _Before_ you guys were married?" Rei asked slyly.

A panicked expression fell on her mother's face, "What, no of course not!" She back peddled quickly. "We got married, obviously."

"Wait, were you guys even married when you had Junior?"

"Oh my goodness, Rei. Of all the things to ask." She felt a bead of sweat slide down the back of her neck. "We were married, _of_ _course_ we were married!" Things were getting a little out of hand.

Matt was going to kill her.

"Okay so you move in with Dad, who was still probably in his rockstar phase, then?" She raised a brown eyebrow.

"He made me the happiest woman alive by making me Mimi Ishida."

Case closed.

-x-

 **A/N: I wrote this for the tumblr prompt "Future" for Mimato week. Read at your own risk (it's a plot bunny gone rogue)**

It doesn't really have much to do with the original one shot I posted, I just updated it under that one because I didn't feel like creating a whole new story (am I the only one who gets annoyed of having to click that user licensing agreement every time?)


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